The Little Wish for Wings

I will fly. Dogged determination dug deep inside Amy’s appreciation for being able to hover in the air. Standing on a branch, she takes a leap and for a few seconds the cool breeze of the sinking air wound itself through her hair, a rising happiness gleaming from her eyes but as the thought of ‘I will try again’ swept across Amy’s thoughts another bruise bled blue from the pressure with the earth. Cotton rags blew across the lawn, until it snagged taught from the ties to a resting body.

With sad eyes and an empty heart of hope a little girl opens her mind, to a world away from the visions of our open eyes. A sparkling dust settled on her lips and as these magical fragments dissolved into the little girls unconscious sleep what she didn’t know was she’d wake to a wish she wanted true.

She blinks and suddenly high in soft fluffy wisp’s of cotton coloured air, large lakes sparkle from the beaming glare of sun and the green and yellows of the blurry earth below is all but forgotten as she soars along

Defying gravity, Amy would became the dream for everyone who watched and read, for the influencing minds would press record and the words and pictures that was said would slowly but surely make her story theirs. The desire to once have something that no one could compare, was the very thing that would drive the poor little girl to despair. But before she could ever make that wish for it to never of begun, one day, when doors closed and lights flickered on, she packed a bag and in the bag was nothing, as where she was going, she was only looking to bring things back.

And so she flew, over lands of dry, under lands of wet, she talked to animals she had never met, to people who didn’t speak but made only sounds, to places poor but rich in life and those that have it all yet lie to their own of their incomplete wishes.

The world seemed an untold place, no guide could take you through, your greeting hand and welcome smile would find a path for you.

A path for Amy nearly came to rest in the earths unspoilt, truly utopian zoo.

If papers knew, and people flocked, words of paradise would be used and the reason for it to exist would slowly build to that place we already know and Amy knew this, so instead of telling of this place Amy wrote it down scratching in the sand, and only she will ever know what was ever said.

The lightest blue caresses the crescent moon shaped white grains. Grasses sweep up higher to mossy plains up to a high mountain top, layered with soft flakes of white, that collects in one giant plunge to an icy blue creek that all living breathing things would drink. Small simmering volcanoes with pools of warm liquid, cleanse yet also warms the air to provide the fruits of life to grow. From my first step upon these sands, i saw some darting feet kicking up the sand, from pounding muscles of pure wildness, but with the soft fur sweeping over tingling skin, a lion lets itself to rest greeting me with calm delight. All things with moving hearts, small and big, would dance in unison with life around them. Nothing feared another and all lived like a perfect dream inside our head.

But only so much time can escapes Amy’s mind before the restlessness of the apparent perfect. She couldn’t tell how she felt, as nothing made her clench her heart ,wipe her eyes or throw a fist at something that truly hurt and so with nothing to compare, she yearned to feel another bruise, to finding something from something undefined, the challenge had been swapped with acceptance. She had found a place where she found her peace, but with nothing to compare it to the feeling of being alive wold fail to exist.

So the rising tides would fill the etches made from her mind, so what was written in the sand would slowly fade away and no sign she had once stayed there would be on display, leaving the secret in her, for a place to go again someday, when in need for a moment to escape. But if others knew what she can do and where she’s gone the world from where she’d come would find a way for the new secret to be gone. A paradise found only in that heart of hers, a gap which many Amy thought, never even find, could she be the one to find a cure for all the other hopeless minds?

A sudden knock on the door, Amy’s mother beckons her to rise. Beside her bed an open bag lay. Amy sweeps away the thick woollen quilt and pulls taught the edges of the bag open. Inside the bag nothing can be seen. Running her hand along the bottom, tiny grains rub against the smooth tips of her fingers and if a camera cut to slowly tracking in toward her face, the last frame would be filled with a beaming smile. She knew what she had to do.

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